Just Another Normal Day
by thestupidgenius1123
Summary: "If I could go back in time, I would go back to the moment that Val told Max and I we'd be great parents. And I'd ask her just what gave her the right to make a stupid prediction like that." Fax. Future-fic. One-shot. [Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride. All rights reserved to James Patterson. No copyright infringement intended.]


**Just Another Normal Day**

**A/N: This lovely little brain-child was pestering me all week. **

**Happy belated-Valentines Day, to all my lovely readers!**

**[Summary: "If I could go back in time, I would go back to the moment that Val told Max and I we'd be great parents. And I'd ask her just what gave her the right to make a stupid prediction like that." Fax. Future-fic. Valentine's Day one-shot.]**

FANG

If I could go back in time, I would go back to the moment that Val told Max and I we'd be great parents. And I'd ask her just what gave her the right to make a shitty prediction like that.

But, I didn't have the power to time travel. So I was stuck in the present.

It was Saturday morning, and my alarm clock was my five-year-old. Our bed was pretty high, which resulted in him pulling most of the blankets onto the floor in his attempt to climb up.

"Ryan," I grumbled, grabbing him and pulling him up onto the bed. "When you grow up, you're going to wish you'd slept in on the weekends."

"But I'm not tired!" he said, shoving my chest with both his little hands. "Mommy said to wake you up!"

"Did she now?" I asked, rubbing my forehead.

Over the usual sound of weekend-morning cartoons and chaos, I heard Max call: "If I have to be up, so do you!"

Tough love.

With a grunt, I sat up, swung my legs off the bed and scooped Ryan into my arms. I glanced at the clock and tried not to groan out loud. Seven thirty. What an unholy hour.

As I walked down the hall, I almost tripped and sent Ryan flying. I quickly braced my hand on the wall and glared down at the stupid toy that was now singing some stupid song. Ryan giggled. It wouldn't have been half as funny if I'd accidentally thrown him down the hall, now would it?

I heard pots and pans in the kitchen; someone was making a ruckus.

"Caleb, are you monitoring your mother in the kitchen?" I called.

"Uh, _no_," he shouted back. "Are _you _monitoring your _wife _in the kitchen?"

"Quit back-talking and go prevent a house fire," I said, plopping Ryan down on the couch next to his eight year old brother, Blake, who was drinking a juice pouch and being quiet. For once. In his entire life. Miracle.

Caleb groaned, pushing his laptop off his legs and shuffling into the kitchen. Max said, "I got it!" And Caleb replied, "No, mom, just…let me do it."

Max huffed. I walked up to her and kissed her forehead, moving past her into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

Just when the morning started looking up, we heard a devastated wail come from the living room.

"Ryan spilled my juice!" Blake cried. Almost a second later, we heard Ryan burst into tears. Max disappeared into the living room and started scolding them for behaving like animals. I mean, _technically_…

Never mind. We don't have to get into that.

After that meltdown was resolved, Max came back into the kitchen and smiled at me, sighing. I smirked at her.

"Sometimes, I think I've died and woken up in my own personal hell," I said.

Max rolled her eyes, turning away from me to open the pantry. "Lovely, Fang. Really."

"Who's idea was it to have three boys? Huh?" I raised an eyebrow challengingly.

Without turning to face me, Max said, "Might I remind you _who _contributed the Y chromosomes?"

"Might I remind you who wanted to keep trying for a girl?" I countered without missing a beat.

"Touché," Max said. I could hear her smirk. She pulled out a loaf of bread and then went to the fridge, retrieving strawberry jam. As she walked over to the toaster, she ruffled Caleb's hair. He practically snarled at her.

"They aren't that bad," Max said endearingly.

"You just wait till he brings home a bad report card," I said, refilling my mug. Then I added with wide eyes, "Or a pregnant girlfriend."

Max laughed.

I feigned a look of horror. "Why are you _laughing_?"

"Fang, he's twelve. And since I'm pretty sure he's just now realizing girls don't have cooties, the whole pregnant-girlfriend bit is still pretty funny. Maybe you can use it as a scare-tactic in the next five years."

"Shut up, Mom," Caleb grumbled, hating that his parents were joking about him.

"It's alright, Caleb. Your mom doesn't know what she's talking about. Some girls _do _have cooties, if you know what I mean."

Max pointed her knife - which was covered in jam - at me threateningly. "That's sick. Don't tell him shit like that, he'll turn out like you."

"Yeah," Caleb said, "And I _don't _know what you mean."

I grinned at Max. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"

"Dinner at Mom's tonight with the Flock. Um…Blake has a project he'll need help with, too. And we really should go to the store."

"So…where do I come in?" I asked jokingly.

"You're hilarious, babe," Max said sarcastically. "Seriously. Go bring those monsters in here for breakfast."

"Yeah, okay," I said. "Did you remember to sneak the sedatives into their food?"

Caleb frowned, turning off the stove. "You guys joke about that way to much."

Max tried not to laugh as she carried the toast to the table.

I went into the living room and grabbed Ryan with one hand, turning off the TV with the other. "Come on, Blake. Breakfast."

Sitting around the table, our boys morphed into what resembled normal human beings for a few precious minutes. Blake gushed about his art project and his ideas for making it awesome, Ryan actually ate everything on his plate - twice, and Caleb surprisingly joined in on the conversation. It was shocking.

After breakfast, I started loading the dishwasher and Max went down the hall, disappearing into our bedroom. Once the table was clean from breakfast, Blake brought in his supplies for his art project. I glanced at Caleb. "Watch him and make sure he doesn't make a mess, alright?"

Caleb shrugged. "Whatever."

I went down the hall and into our bedroom, closing the door behind me. Max was changing. I stepped behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, kissing the side of her neck.

"Hmmm…You should be watching the kids, Fang. I need to go to the store," Max mumbled, turning my arms.

"Caleb offered to supervise for a while," I said, pulling her closer.

Max raised an eyebrow, pushing her arms around my neck. "Caleb offered, huh?"

"Okay. Caleb didn't flat out refuse when I gave him the job."

"Sounds about right," Max breathed.

I kissed her, squeezing her around the waist and walking her towards the bed.

"Fang…" Max said warningly as I pushed her onto the mattress.

"What?" I asked innocently, climbing on top of her. She tried to respond, but I covered her words with another, deeper kiss. I pulled back, brushed her hair from her face, and moved in for another kiss when Max stopped me.

She pulled away and said, "Do you want to have another baby?"

I looked her in the eyes. "No."

Max's eyes widened. "Wow. That was a blatant no. Didn't even hesitate."

I groaned, pushing my face into her neck. "Max…do you want another baby?"

Max bit her lip. "I don't know…I wouldn't _hate _it…"

"Max."

She sighed. "Yeah. Yes. I do. I want another one. Like, now."

"_Right _now?"

"I mean, yeah."

I stared at her. "Okay."

"Um…" Max's fingers were playing the hair at the nape of my neck. "Shouldn't we discuss this? Like, two seconds ago you were totally against it."

"Max, we can have…_ten _kids, if you want."

Max's eyes widened. "I don't."

"Thank God."

Max laughed. "Fang, really."

"Here's the deal. Instead of trying to get pregnant, how about we…stop trying _not _to."

Max's face split into a slow smile, her hands moving to the hem of my t-shirt. "_Right _now?"

"Yeah," I said, helping her with my shirt. "Right now."

Max lifted her head off the pillow to kiss me again, her hands roaming my chest. We quickly got to work on each others' clothes.

"You lock the door?" Max groaned, her feet kicking at my sweats while I kissed her flat stomach.

"Mmph," I hummed against her skin, making her stifle a giggle.

"Fang, seriously, did you-"

At that moment, she got her answer, because the bedroom door flew open and Blake yelled, "Mom!"

The next few seconds were kind of a blur. Max started tugging the sheets up over both of us and I shouted, "Blake, shut the door!"

He quickly evacuated, wide-eyed and frightened. Max mumbled, "Go talk to him. Go talk to him. Oh, God…"

"What are you freaking out about? You had pants on," I grumbled, getting up and pulling on my sweats. Max reached down and grabbed her shirt.

There was a tentative knock on the door. "Can I come in now?"

I groaned. Max heaved a sigh, getting up.

"Yeah, baby. What's going on?"

Blake slowly opened the door. "Um…Ryan is in a bit of a…sticky situation."

I raised an eyebrow, looking at Max. She frowned. "Okay, while I go take care of that…Fang," she motioned to our son, then mouthed, _talk to him. _

"Right. I got it. You only said it a million times," I huffed. She left the room and I knelt down in front of Blake.

"Okay, buddy. You good?"

"Yeah."

"Mommy and I were just…doing what mommies and daddies do. You'll understand when you're older."

He looked pretty unconcerned. "Okay. Will you help me with my project now?"

"Uh, yeah. Yep, let's do that."

I stood up and he turned to go into the kitchen.

"Oh, Blake?"

He turned around. "Don't tell your uncles about what you saw, okay? Just trust me."

Blake looked at me with a weirded expression. "Okay…"

He ran out of the room. I ran my hand down my face, sighing. Jesus.

"Oh, my God!" Max cried. "Sticky situation? _Fang_!"

I arrived in the living room first to see Max kneeling next to our five-year-old, who's hand was over his mouth.

"What, Ryan? What is it?"

He started talking, but it was muffled behind his hand.

"Ryan-"

"His hand is glued to his face," Max said with a look of complete distress. She grabbed his elbow and pressed a hand to his forehead and pulled. Nope. His hand stayed plastered over his mouth. "Oh, God."

"Max, this may be a blessing in disguise," I whispered. She glared at me.

"I told you it was sticky," Blake said , walking into the room. "He got into my art supplies and super-glued his hand to his face. Idiot."

"Don't call your brother an idiot. Where's Caleb? He was supposed to be watching you."

Caleb came down the hall then, pulling his earbuds out. "_What_? I'm busy." he said with exasperation.

"We need to go to the hospital," Max said, grabbing Ryan.

"Great," I said, grabbing the car keys. "Can't _wait _to explain this one."

• • •

"You'd be surprised how many times we see cases like these in the ER," the nurse said reassuringly as another young woman in scrubs examined Ryan's situation. Blake and Caleb sat in the two chairs against the wall, Caleb on his cell phone and Blake on watching with fascination, asking questions like, "Are you going to cut his hand off?" and "Is he going to die?" With each terrifying question out of his brother's mouth, Ryan whimpered, his eyes wide with fear.

Max and I weren't feeling too great, either. Standing in a place that smells strongly of antiseptic can do that to people who'd be tortured in labs in the past. Go figure. Apparently, PTSD isn't something that wanes with age.

"You see this a lot?" Max asked warily. "I doubt it."

The nurse raised her eyebrows. "I've seen worse cases where a boy glues _some _part of his anatomy to _another _part of his anatomy. Or someone else, for that matter."

I made a WTF face at Max over the nurse's head. She shrugged.

"Anyways, we'll get Doctor Lewis in here and you'll all be back home in a jiff!" she smiled. "_What _a way to celebrate Valentine's Day, huh?"

She left the room after that, and the young nurse followed her. I glanced at Max.

Valentine's Day?

Since when?

Max looked just as shocked at that update as I was.

"Did you know-"

"Today was-"

She put her hand to her forehead. "God, I can't believe we forgot Valentine's Day."

"I'm sorry," I said, wrapping my arms around her. I tilted her chin up and planted a kiss on her lips. She sighed, pushing her arms around my waist.

"It's okay," she said in between short kisses. "I don't need any flowers."

"Or chocolates."

"Uh, no. I would like the chocolates."

I frowned. "So now I have to go buy you chocolate?"

Max made a face at me. "Uh, _you _forgot Valentine's Day. You need to suck up to me. Plus, tomorrow, all the chocolate will be on sale, anyways."

I chuckled. "Point taken."

Max put her hand on my neck and kissed me again.

I pulled away and Max went over to Ryan, rubbing his back between his wings. He looked totally freaked. Well, that'll teach him not to super glue _his body_. As soon as the doctor walked through the door, Max groaned.

"I can give you, like, at _least _three good reasons why you shouldn't call child services on us."

He smiled, putting on his glasses and glancing at the patient sheet. "Don't worry, Mrs. Ride. I was just dealing with a four-year-old who ate a whole roll of toilet paper."

"See?" I murmured. "At least our kid didn't do _that_."

"Shut up," Max grumbled. "I can't believe this even happened."

"Even the best parents can't watch their children every minute," he said reassuringly.

"See, Max? Even the best parents screw up. That just goes to show that crappy parents like us are bound to screw up a lot more often."

Max rolled her eyes. And the doctor got to working fixing our youngest.

• • •

"There are my perfect little nephews!" Nudge said as we walked through Valencia's front door. "Come hug your favorite aunt!"

"Perfect?" I mused, closing the door. Max rolled her eyes. Her mom came into the foyer and swept her into a hug. "How have you guys been? Did you have a good Valentine's Day?" she asked.

"It was great, Mom," Max said.

"Exciting, that's for sure," I mumbled.

Max snorted.

Valencia glanced at me with a confused look. Max grabbed her arm. "We'll explain later. Did we hold up dinner?"

"Oh, no, you are just in time. Dinner is ready and everyone's here."

I put my hand on the small of Max's back and we walked into the kitchen, joining everyone at the table.

"Hey, guys," Gazzy said. "What's up with Ryan's face?"

He was referring to the red marks that were left around Ryan's mouth, since the doctors had to _pry his hand from his face_.

You can't make this shit up.

"Um…" Max hesitated. "He super-glued his hand…to his face."

"You know," I said casually, opening a beer. "Just another normal day in the Ride house."

The others all stared at us in shock.

"_Jesus_," Iggy chuckled, shaking his head.

Val tried to cover her smirk as she said, "Okay, let's pray."

Everyone bowed their heads. Max grabbed my hand under the table and we listened in silence as Valencia said the prayer. Then, she added, "And for Max and Fang, and their…eccentric household."

"I'll drink to that."

"Fang, it's a _prayer_, not a toast," Max hissed, squeezing my hand. "Put the beer _down_."

**A/N: Just felt like doing a nice future-fic, consisting of no plot whatsoever. Review and tell me what you thought!**


End file.
